


Golden Boy’s in Bad Shape

by stopmysinfulhand



Series: Star Treatment [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gunshot Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: The silence you slipped into was easy.The gunshot was deafening.





	Golden Boy’s in Bad Shape

The night seemed darker than usual. Perhaps it was due to the cold and the shortened days, but it was as if all the lights in New York could do nothing to illuminate your surroundings, and you found yourself cuddling closer to your companion and pseudo-bodyguard, Steve Rogers. Steve was good at many things, and great at even more, but to you the best thing he could do was serve as your own personal heater. He smiled his beautiful, all-american smile down at you and wrapped his arm tighter around your waist. “You good, doll?”

“Yeah. Just got a funny feeling.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I know I always got you to protect me.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “You had a terrific show tonight. For a second, I thought the guy in front of me was about to keel over when you sat in his lap.” 

You laughed. “He sure looked it, didn’t he? You shoulda seen him from the front. Although, I think his wife wanted to sock me.” 

“My little siren.” He gently pinched your cheek. 

“Always calling to my wandering sailor,” you mused back, nudging him with your hip. 

“Hey now,” he said with a laugh. “We both know I’m more of a soldier at heart.” 

The silence you slipped into was so easy. The sound of the gunshot was deafening, as was the scream you let out once your companion hit the ground, blood already staining his white shirt and bleeding through his coat. You whipped your head around to see the assailant, but it was much too dark to see anyone. You quickly got to your knees, uncaring of ruining your stockings, and slipped off your scarf. You turned him over and applied pressure to the wound, tears flooding into your eyes and nearly blinding you. “Stevie?” you called to him. 

His breathing was labored, but his eyes opened, fixating on you. “It hurts,” he managed, his hand coming up to cover yours. 

A little sigh of relief left you. At least he wasn’t unconscious. “Oh baby, I know it does.” You unbuttoned his shirt and carefully peeled it away so you could get a better look at the wound. The hole went all the way through his left side, so the odds of the bullet still being in there were slim. That was good. You could work with this. You looked around to get your bearings. You were so close to your apartment, but you knew you didn’t have the training needed to keep him alive. But you might know someone who did. 

You wrapped your scarf around him as tight and as many times as you could in an effort to pause the bleeding. “Stevie, do you think you can stand?”

His face hardened and he nodded, wincing as he started to stand. He wobbled but he made his way up. “You’re so strong,” you marveled, holding him up as much as possible. He did most of the work for you as he hobbled over to the apartment building, only leaning on you slightly. His pain tolerance amazed you. 

You got him into the elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor, gently brushing his hair out of his face. By the time you got him into the apartment, he was coated in a thin layer of sweat and shivering as you laid him on the couch. Desperately trying to ignore the light trail of blood he left behind him, you covered him in a blanket and rushed for the phone. 

A few rings and then a soft, accented voice answered. “Peggy,” you rushed out, “Steve’s hurt, Bucky’s on a trip, and I don’t have Erskine’s number. Help.” In any other situation, you’d be concerned about how impolite you sounded but hey, desperate times, y’know?

Peggy, ever the pillar of strength, gave you a short “I’m on my way,” before she hung up. You glanced over to Steve, who had his eyes fixed on you, and gave him a reassuring smile before dialing the number for Bucky’s hotel. 

You were connected to his room, and he answered with his usual breezy tone, delighted when he realized it was you. That was, until he heard your panic. “What is it, doll?”

“Steve’s…” You took a shaky breath. “Steve’s been shot. I need you to get home. Please.”

He gasped. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Did you call someone?” 

You nodded, but you realized he couldn’t hear that, so you managed to tell him you called Peggy. He reassured you that things would be okay and he’d be home by morning. He sat on the line with you for a few more minutes before bidding you goodbye. You hung up, ran to the kitchen to get as many towels as you could, and rushed back to Steve’s side, trying to not sob when you saw him. 

He was paling rapidly, his eyelids fluttered, and you were sure blood was seeping into the couch. He managed to smile up at you, though, trying to reassure you. A soft laugh left you. Here he was, going into shock, and he still was looking out for you. You pulled back the blanket and used the towels to cover the wound, putting the blanket back over him before you started applying pressure again. 

“I’ll be,” a cough interrupted him, “fine, doll. I’ve had worse.” 

“Worse?” you asked, using your free hand to stroke his cheek. “Jeez Steve, maybe you need to find another line of work,” you joked weakly. 

He gave you another smile, and you thought you were about to burst into another round of tears. “Nah. Gotta be there to escort my best girl home.”

You kissed him softly and rested your forehead against his, stroking his cheek. “Hold on for me, okay? Don’t leave me,” you pleaded. 

“I could never leave you, (Y/N),” he said earnestly. He brought a hand up and ran it through your hair. A knock startled you and his hand slipped, falling to his side. 

You pressed another kiss to his forehead, positioning Steve’s hand to hold the towel to the wound before drifting to the door. Peggy stood with Dr. Erskine next to her, and as soon as you opened the door, she pulled you into a hug and gestured for Erskine to tend to Steve. “Thanks for coming,” you murmured into her shoulder. 

“Of course, my dear. You were right to call me.” She smiled softly and held you at arm’s length for a moment, scanning you. Her eyes leveled on a blood stain you hadn’t noticed yet, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “How about you get changed, hm?” she suggested. “I’ll make sure Steve gets fixed right up.” 

You looked over to the couch, where Erskine was already getting out the supplies to pack Steve’s wound, and grimaced. The towels had soaked through with blood, but at least the flow seemed to have been staunched. The stench of blood finally reached your senses, and your stomach turned, a wave of nausea washing over you. “Maybe I should,” you managed. 

Stumbling to your room, you shut the door and stripped, searching in your drawers for something comfortable. Another wave of nausea hit you. You leaned against the dresser and tried to hold yourself up as all the adrenaline you’d been hopped up on drained from your system. You managed to change into shorts and a thin blouse, using a robe to cover up before heading back into the living room where Steve was newly bandaged and sitting up slightly. 

He gave you a soft smile and you almost started crying again as you rushed to sit next to him, taking his hand. “I told you I’d be fine,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You turned to Dr. Erskine with a smile. “Thank you so much, Doctor. I know it’s later than you usually make house calls. I appreciate it so much,” you told him. 

He gave you a smile in return, bowing his head slightly. “It’s not a problem, Ms. (L/N). I’m happy to be of assistance. He seems to have stabilized quickly, which is a good sign. I’ll be back in the morning.” You shook his hand and led him to the door, letting him out. 

“Tell me what happened,” Peggy less asked, more demanded, once you were seated next to Steve again. She had made tea, God bless her, and offered you a cup, prepared just the way you liked it. You took a sip and leaned against Steve gently, careful not to put any pressure on his wound. 

“I don’t even know, Peggy. We were just walking home from the club, and then suddenly he had a bullet hole in him,” you told her, clearing your voice to stop the waver in it. “I couldn’t even see who shot him.” 

Steve rubbed your shoulder gently. “It’s okay, doll. We’ll figure it out,” he said softly, in an attempt to comfort you. 

You nodded, unconvinced, and took another sip of your tea. “(Y/N), if you’d like, I can stay up with Steve until Bucky returns.” 

You shook your head with wide eyes. “Oh no, Peggy, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You set the cup down. “I don’t think I can sleep anyways. You’re welcome to stay, though. Can I make you something to eat?” You realized you were being an awful hostess and quickly got to your feet, Steve making a small noise of protest as you did so. 

She waved you back down, shaking her head. “No no, you’ve had quite the shock. Just relax, alright? I can take care of myself.”

You hesitated before nodding as you sat back down, positioning yourself so now Steve was the one to lay against you. Stroking his hair, you felt him relax against you with a slight wince, which he covered with a sleepy smile. “Not much you can do, (Y/N). She’s as stubborn as a bull,” he told you. 

“As if you’re one to talk,” you told him back, gently tweaking his cheek. 

“You got me there.” He shut his eyes and his breathing became smoother, less labored, and his body became a lot heavier. Not that you minded. He would definitely need the rest. 

You positioned him a little better before you smiled tiredly at Peggy. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” You swallowed down the tears and drained your tea, a shudder running through you as you set the cup down. 

“Nonsense,” said Peggy. “You would have been just as fine without me. You’re incredibly resourceful, you know.”

Your cheeks heated up under her praise, your eyes flicking down to watch Steve’s chest rise and fall with each breath. “You’re too kind,” you finally said, breaking the quiet. “Seriously though, thank you, Peggy.” 

She reached over, took your hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, before she poured you a second cup of tea. “How did the show go tonight?”

You smiled, but it fell almost as soon as you managed to conjure it. “It was swell. I really love my job,” you told her. “I just wish I didn’t get out so late. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“(Y/N),” she started, her tone full of warning, “You can’t think that way. It’s not your fault.” 

“He only came to walk me home, Peg. That’s the only reason.” You sniffled, brushing Steve’s hair off his forehead. “To protect me,” you said weakly.

“And rightly so! What if he hadn’t been with you? What if you’d been alone? Or worse, what if he had been alone?” She shook her head, as if the possibility were too unspeakable. “It’s better he was with you. He’ll be okay, he always is. His constitution is better than anyone else I know.” Peggy took your hand again, a reassuring gesture that soothed your racing heart. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

You nodded and exhaled shakily, squeezing her hand gently. “Thanks, Peggy.” 

She nodded in return and leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. “You’re welcome, (Y/N). Now, try to rest, alright?” As she made the request, you could feel your eyes start to grow heavy, as if her very question invoked sleep. “I’ll keep watch,” she assured you. 

Your eyes drooped shut and your head fell back against the couch, one hand rested on Steve’s chest. 

When you opened your eyes again, you could see two figures standing in the doorway. Opening your eyes a little further, the figures turned out to be Peggy and Bucky, conversing closely with the occasional glance at you and Steve. When Bucky saw you were awake, he hastily bid farewell to Peggy, saw her out, and went to your side, kneeling next to you. “Hey kid, how you holdin’ up?” 

You managed a smile and leaned down, careful not to disturb Steve, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay, thanks, Bucky,” you said. 

Steve stirred slightly and opened his eyes, smiling up at the two of you. “Hey, Buck.” His voice was husky from sleep and sent a shiver up your spine. “You’re home.” 

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m home,” he agreed, running his hand through Steve’s hair like you had done earlier. “How do you feel?”

Steve tried to sit up with a wince, but you rushed to keep him down. “Hurts,” he murmured, falling back into your lap. He wiggled a little, pressing his face into your stomach, drawing a giggle out of you. He smiled up at you, that big grin he got when he made you laugh, and it soothed your troubled mind, leaving you with just a pang of sad. You knew then that Steve was going to be just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the title comes from the Arctic Monkey’s song Star Treatment. I heard that line and the image that came to me was irresistible. Here’s a lil bonus as I continue to work on HWaMS, now that I’ve introduced Peggy.


End file.
